Reality Check
by Dee Bradfield
Summary: Alternate Series ending. Dawson returns to the creek and finds a few surprises. P/J. Chapter Ten now posted.
1. Chapter 1

**R E A L I T Y C H E C K**

**By Canton Heroine**

Disclaimer: I don't own Dawson. I don't want him. But the Pacey in this story is all mine.

Summary: Alternate Series ending. Everything follows canon up until the finale when the event bringing them all back to Capeside changes from the wedding to Grams' funeral. Dawson didn't make it back for that, but everyone else did. In this universe, Jen is perfectly healthy and raising Amy as a single mom; Jack is happy with Doug; and Pacey and Joey got together, but Franken-forehead doesn't know about it. Five years later, he's back – this time it is for Gale's wedding – and he finds a few surprises.

"_A friendship that can cease has never been real."_

_- Saint Jerome (374BC – 419AD)_

**Chapter One**

Home sweet home.

Dawson Leery squinted into the sunlight reflecting off the still water of the creek and smiled. Even though he hadn't made the journey back home for almost a decade, the picture-perfect postcard he saw through the windscreen of his rental car remained virtually indistinguishable from the one he tried to recreate on-screen every week. It was comforting to know that some things didn't change, no matter how much time had passed.

And time had definitely passed; a whole lot faster than he had ever anticipated. The last several years had gone by in one big chaotic blur. In fact, the last time there'd been a mass gathering of Capesiders, just over five years prior to this one, Dawson had been a no-show. Instead of flying in, he'd opted to remain in LA for some frantic last-minute editing on the pilot for his television show, hoping against hope that it would be picked up for a full season. Not that Grams' funeral hadn't been significantly more important in the grander scheme of things, but back then his career was riding the fast track and it had been far too difficult for him to take a break.

He'd sent flowers instead.

This occasion was destined to be a happier one, and one he was obligated to attend since he was to be giving his Mom away at her wedding. He was actually looking forward to it. Trent was a nice guy and most days Dawson was pleased to have him on board as part of the family. It also didn't hurt that as a tearaway eleven-year-old, Lily was in dire need of a father figure and Trent was willing to stick around to play the part.

Shaking off the heavy introspection that had tended to cloud his thoughts of late, he continued driving around the bay toward his old house, determined to stay in good spirits. The last thing he wanted was for his encroaching depression to ruin his Mom's big day. He was passing the Potter B&B - hoping to catch a glimpse of Bessie, and thereby an excuse to stop and ask about her sister - when he spied a young girl outside, playing in the backyard. A powerful wave of déjà vu washed over him and he slammed on the brakes and stared. Compelled to investigate further, he found himself pulling into the drive and getting out of the car.

He approached cautiously, willing himself not to blink in case she disappeared into thin air. Given his jet-lagged state, a hallucination didn't seem entirely out of the realm of possibility.

Standing before him was a perfect little tomboy in denim cut-offs and a baggy Bruins jersey. About five or six years old, she had pretty doll-like features and long limbs, as gangly and awkward as a newborn colt, even at this early stage of her life.

Every last thing about her was familiar, from the shape of her face and her long dark hair, down to her bony, band-aid adorned knees and bare muddy feet. In fact, he'd seen a girl just like her every day of his own childhood. Usually right here in this very backyard.

This girl was the spitting image of Joey Potter. And as much as he wanted to ignore it, or to speculate on other possible means to account for this miniature doppelganger, he couldn't deny what he already knew in his heart of hearts. She belonged to his soul mate. Joey had a daughter.

Why hadn't he known about this monumental occurrence?

"Hi!" she said brightly, breaking into his reverie and blinking up at him curiously.

Dawson blinked back. Her intense blue-green eyes were unexpected, particularly when he'd been anticipating smoky brown, and he felt their impact like a fist to his gut.

"Hello." He knelt down, essentially to put himself nearer to her level, but also to get a closer look. There was something else about her that rang a distant alarm bell, and a certain suspicion was beginning to niggle at the edge of his mind.

It was the eyes. If only he could place those eyes…

She returned the scrutiny fearlessly, seeming to stare straight through him, and then smirked in a knowing manner that suggested a mature sensibility well beyond her tender years. "You're Dawson."

His brows shot up in surprise. "That's right." He laughed and nodded. "That's exactly right, actually. And might I inquire who you are?"

"I'm Daddy's Bonnie Darlin'."

"Of course you are."

She scowled. "Don't patronize me, man."

And right there was the clincher, the final kick in the teeth. That niggling suspicion had now become hard fact. He knew that expression only too well, and when it was coupled with that cynical, drawling tone and heavy-lidded glare…there was no doubt in his mind of her father's identity, no doubt at all. The fist in his gut tightened and twisted, making it hard to draw the breath to speak.

"I – I didn't mean to, Bonnie. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." Bonnie sniffed, eyeing him skeptically. "Mom's up at the house." And just like that he was dismissed. She tucked her hair behind her ears in an endearingly familiar gesture and walked away.

Dawson stood, trying to assimilate this new information, to have it reconcile with the history in his head. It wasn't a comfortable fit.

Joey had a daughter.

More importantly, Joey had a daughter with _Pacey_.

How had this happened? When had he drifted so far away from their group that he hadn't been included in this? His mother could have said something, given him a clue at the very least. Or perhaps she had, and he'd simply been too involved in his work to pay her any mind. Maybe Joey hadn't wanted him to know, for whatever reason. Maybe she was ashamed.

He wondered for a moment if Pacey had left her to raise Bonnie alone, but quickly abandoned that idea. The girl was obviously aware of, and adoring of her father. He was around in some sort of capacity. What he couldn't begin to comprehend was why Joey was back in Capeside at all, living in her old house of all places. What about her well-documented yearning to get out, to travel the world, to further her career? And if Joey was at the B&B, where on earth was Bessie?

Shaking himself out of his funk, he started along the well-trodden path toward the house.

There were too many questions here. He needed to find some answers.

Joey stepped out onto the porch, her attention focused solely on her daughter's intended destination.

"Bonnie Witter! Don't you dare go near that creek! We're supposed to go to Aunt Gale's when your father gets home, and I don't want to have to get you changed again!"

"Okay!" Bonnie answered readily enough but didn't alter her trajectory, wandering out onto the Potter dock, sitting down and dangling her feet off the edge.

Joey sighed. "Just don't get wet!" She caught a flash of blue from the corner of her eye, and startled when it coalesced into the form of an Oxford shirt. Even more startling was the fact that it was worn by Dawson Leery. "Oh! God!" She put a hand over her heart, trying to calm herself. "_Dawson?_"

"Hey."

"Hey." Joey didn't know what else to say. She gawked at him wide-eyed. "Dawson, you're…here. In Capeside. At my house."

"It looks that way, yeah."

A long moment passed as they stared at each other; him looking like he'd been hit by lightning, and her gnawing anxiously at her lower lip.

She cleared her throat. "Wow. So…this is kind of awkward. I, um…I guess we have some catching up to do, huh?"

Dawson just nodded, rendered speechless for perhaps only the second time in his life.

"Well then," Joey held the screen open and waved him indoors. "Welcome to the funhouse."

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The inside of the house wasn't quite as unchanged as the rest of Capeside had been. Dawson stood in the centre of the kitchen and looked around, feeling decidedly out of place - a dusty old relic dropped unceremoniously into a pristine new environment.

There were certain similarities to the old B&B, but it was less of a business now and more of a home, prone to the controlled chaos that came with such a position, especially with a young family.

Toys were strewn randomly across a section of the living area; dolls in various states of undress, plastic blocks, a knotted-up skipping rope dangling precariously from an easel. The easel was also the proud owner of a half-finished painting, an impressionist watercolour with bright washes of blue representing the sea or sky, or maybe even both. Other seemingly unrelated knick-knacks adorned every available inch of shelving - books, seashells and sable paintbrushes alongside movie collectibles, cereal-box trinkets and novelty Pez dispensers - and there were an abundance of framed family photographs that made him itch to take a closer look.

Not surprisingly, a nautical theme was predominant, but there were also some distinctly land-bound items as well. One wall was almost entirely taken up by a ridiculously large state-of-the-art home theatre system, complete with an enormous widescreen television – its presence made even more notable by the nametag Scotch-taped to its side.

'Ursula II', it said in strangely pointed block letters. Dawson recognized the style from the cheery little signs Pacey used to make when they worked at Screen Play Video, but he couldn't even begin to fathom this one's significance.

All things considered, it was as clean and tidy and as organized as you'd expect any household of Joey's to be. Cluttered but neat, everything in its designated place, right down to the crib that was positioned near the far hallway, sheltered from the bustle of the main living area. Dawson blinked and took a second, harder look. Was that…?

It was. Another child was sleeping inside the wooden structure, bundled under a blanket and barely visible save for a halo of tousled brown hair.

"You…" Dawson trailed off. He licked his lips and tried again. "You…uh, have kids."

"Yep. Two of 'em." Joey held up two fingers and waggled them back and forth. A telltale platinum ring gleamed on a third. "Bonnie, you seem to have already met. She's five. And the thankfully unconscious monster in the pen over there is John Jacob. Otherwise known as Jake, or Jay-Jay, or Stupid Baby Head, depending on which one of us you ask. When awake, he's the living embodiment of the terrible twos." She hurriedly grabbed a half-eaten bowl of cereal from the table and stashed it in the sink, out of sight. "Hence the mess."

Dawson was still dumbfounded. "Joey…you have _kids_."

She turned to look at him, frowning. "You said that already, Dawson. Are you really so shocked? It's been eight years since we last saw each other face to face. Life does go on, whether you're willing to participate in it or not."

"I'm sorry, I just…" Dawson pulled out a chair and slumped down onto it, head in hands, resting his elbows on the table. He gazed up at Joey, feeling irretrievably lost. Amidst the madness, she alone was just as he remembered her – clad simply in jeans and a loose t-shirt, but so beautiful and graceful and full of fire. Only her hair was shorter, lopped off at chin-length and curling around her jaw line. She was so achingly familiar, and yet, at the same time, someone he didn't know at all. "God, this is just a hell of a lot to take in all at once, you know?"

Her face softened. "Dawson, what happened? What did we do that made you stay away from us for so long?"

"Do?" He was astonished. "Joey, you didn't _do_ anything…"

"Well, what was it then?"

His reply was interrupted by an authoritative shout from outside.

"_Bonnie Witter, get away from that creek right now!"_

It was Pacey.

Joey snorted, moving to lift the curtain and peer out the window. "I don't know who we're trying to kid," she muttered. "It's a lost cause. She's just as mesmerized by open water as he is."

The man himself came through the doorway in the next second, swaggering with the kind of innate, insolent charm that only Pacey could pull off.

"Where's my welcoming committee?" he demanded. "You're falling down on the job, woman!" He draped his arms around her and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek, then began nibbling his way down her neck.

"Shhhh!" Joey wiggled and slapped ineffectively at his roving hands. "Keep the asinine commentary down to a dull roar, you big dope, you'll wake the baby."

Pacey had fallen silent of his own accord anyway, having spotted their unexpected guest.

"Dawson," he said. There was no inflection present in his voice to indicate what he was feeling. His face gave nothing away either. He simply stepped back from Joey, folded his arms and stared him down.

Dawson regarded his erstwhile best friend with a strange sense of detachment, like the other man was one of his actors at a screen test, viewed objectively through the safe distance of a camera lens.

Apart from being a little leaner and harder, he didn't really look any different; same bright eyes in the same boyish face, same tall, well-built frame. A battered Patriots cap covered his cropped dark curls - the navy bill was worn and frayed, and the 'flying Elvis' logo had peeled off at one end - and he wore a food-stained button-down shirt, untucked, the cuffs rolled up over his forearms.

He'd evidently just come from the restaurant.

Dawson was aware that Pacey had reopened the Icehouse - he had learned at least that much from his mother - and that it was proving to be a profitable endeavour. What he hadn't known was what a positive effect the venture seemed to have had. This Pacey wasn't the same good-for-nothing jerk who had squandered Dawson's money and almost single-handedly ruined his Hollywood dream. He was calm and confident, comfortable in his own skin - a man of substance.

Dawson realized with mild dismay that he was somewhat jealous of Pacey's youthful appearance. His own hair was rapidly thinning, and the stress of producing a long-running weekly show had taken its toll on his face, etching harsh lines into his skin and dark bags under his eyes. Pacey, on the other hand, was as happy as a clam, and it showed.

"Hey, Pace. It's been a while. You look great," he said, and nodded to Joey. "You both do. Parenthood obviously agrees with you."

There was a pregnant pause and Dawson instantly felt like he'd said the wrong thing, though he didn't know why.

Pacey pursed his lips. "Yes it does." He moved to the refrigerator and, after peering inside for an interminable amount of time, pulled out a jumbo-sized bottle of milk.

Joey held up a finger as he began to unscrew the cap. "Glass," she said pointedly.

"Nag, nag, nag…" Pacey shuffled his way around her, trailing his hand lightly across her hip as he passed, and grabbed a tumbler from an overhead cupboard, pouring himself a drink.

That one small touch was barely perceptible, but Dawson saw it for what it was - a silent indication of support and encouragement. He was letting her call the shots; willing to back her up in whatever way she wanted. He'd never wavered in that regard. Pacey never pushed, or tried to force a situation to suit his own desires. Pacey had always been selfless.

Unlike himself. The most selfish of them all.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, and then fell abruptly silent, shocked that the words had actually escaped his mouth.

Pacey took a huge gulp from his glass in lieu of commenting. Joey simply looked perplexed.

"For what?"

"For everything. I mean, the way I treated…_have_ _been_ treating you all this time, the both of you."

Pacey swiped at his milk moustache with the back of his hand. "That is a complete load of crap."

It looked as though 'Supportive Pacey' had decided against staying. Dawson had forgotten how mercurial his moods could be. Much like the ocean he worshipped, Pacey could be hard to read, his nature deceiving. There had always been something very dark churning beneath the surface of that amiable public persona, and when it came out it tended to destroy all around it.

He could admit at this point that he was quite honestly scared for his safety whenever the other man lost his temper. Pacey had always had a superior physical presence and he'd never shied away from violent confrontations. He'd only gotten broader and stronger with time; odds were he could take Dawson's pampered Hollywood ass in a heartbeat.

A cold finger of fear tickled his spine and he shifted in his seat, preparing to run if the need arose.

"You haven't treated us any way in particular for…what, ten years? More?" Pacey shook his head. "You're a stranger in this house, and strangers don't have to ask for forgiveness because nothing you do has any meaning to us. We don't even know you anymore."

"No, that's…" Joey turned pleading eyes to her husband. "You know that's not true, Pacey."

"Isn't it? I know for a damn fact that he never knew _me_."

Taken at face value, his manner seemed casual, almost blasé, but there was too much underlying tension for him to fully succeed with the charade and the eyes boring into Dawson's were burning with years of built-up resentment. No one on earth had the ability to convey more hatred in a single glare than Pacey Witter; he'd long ago perfected the art.

"Did you?" Pacey prodded, pressing his advantage. "You professed to be my best friend, but you never, _ever_ understood me, Dawson. You had no idea. You only saw the screw-up, the loser, the sex-obsessed goofball side-kick who tarnished your golden boy image and stole your precious soul mate."

Dawson shook his head, trying to deny what Pacey was saying, and yet unable to utter a word in his own defence.

"All I did was fall in love," Pacey continued, "Real love. So deep and so hard that it changed my world forever, _all_ of our worlds. And you made me feel so guilty about it that I spent years trying to get you to forgive me, and for _what?_ For you to persist in making me out to be the bad guy? Pacey the user, Pacey the betrayer of our sacred friendship. You're still doing it, week after week on that stupid show. And I believed it. For so long, I believed that." He sighed, bowing his head. "I bought into that for a long, long time. Right up until that whole Stepatech fiasco, when I realized something."

"Pace…" Joey grabbed his arm, making a half-hearted attempt to calm him down, only to have him pull away from her again.

"The last time I saw you, you gave me hope that one day we could become friends again, you allowed for that possibility, and then you turned your back on me. On all of us. You just walked away and didn't look back. You know what I realized after that, Dawson? When you left, you gave up any right you may have had to dictate my life. I'm not a character in your little puppet show anymore, and I'm not defined by the role you cast me in. I broke out. I'm my own man, a good man, and I have a great life. I don't need you coming in here, now, with your regrets and your lame apologies. I don't need a damn thing from you. Not ever again. It's too little, way too late."

After exchanging a long, meaning-laden stare with Joey, he dumped the remainder of his milk into the sink and then walked back outside without another word.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

The door slammed, breaking the stunned silence and waking the baby, who let out a startled cry. It was then that Dawson realized Pacey hadn't once raised his voice. Somehow, that only made it worse.

Joey sighed, picking up the bottle of milk that he'd left on the countertop and returning it to the refrigerator, her movements measured, unhurried.

"Joey?" Dawson ventured. He was still reeling from Pacey's attack, knowing in his heart that he'd deserved every word, but wondering above all else how she felt about it. Apart from that one small attempt, she hadn't intervened or tried to defend him, she'd just let Pacey have his say.

"Hmm?" She wandered over to the crib and lifted the toddler into her arms, cradling him close and running a hand over his messy curls. "Hush now, sweetheart," she soothed. "It's okay. Daddy's just a cranky old baboon today."

The child sniffed. "Daddy 'boon," he repeated, and then giggled and made monkey noises.

Joey smiled and kissed the top of his head.

Dawson just gazed them, at they picture they made, and was overcome with a sudden rush of admiration, the enormity of it only just now beginning to sink in. It was almost as though he was having a religious experience; a faithful disciple venerating the Madonna and child. His precious Joey - his very own little Joey Potter from down the creek - was a mother, an honest-to-God mother. How awesome was that?

When she turned back, the heart that had leapt into his throat plunged to the bottom of his stomach with sickening velocity.

If Bonnie's eyes hadn't been enough of a reality check, then John Jacob's entire appearance ripped the blinders clean away. The child was the very image of his father. Everything was exactly the same, every last feature.

"Did Pacey have himself cloned?" he cracked.

Joey snorted. "I know. Frightening, isn't it?" She jiggled the boy on her hip. "I don't think there's a single gene of mine at work in this one. Though, I must say, he's quite the wunderkind."

"Pacey's looks and your brains. That's a…terrifying combination."

"I predict world domination," Joey deadpanned. "You're all doomed."

"He's right, you know," Dawson said, returning abruptly to the subject-at-hand, the one that was beginning to weigh heavy on his conscience. "Pacey, I mean. You guys didn't do anything wrong. It was all me. I have to claim sole responsibility - not only for past transgressions, but for this prolonged estrangement as well. And I have no good excuse. I can't do anything but apologize, and to keep on apologizing. It doesn't even begin to let me off the hook, but…I'm so sorry, Jo."

She stared at him. "It's not me who needs to accept that apology, Dawson. I was just as much to blame as you were. I mean, we were so concerned with ourselves and with each other that we didn't take the time to see what we were doing to _him_, how badly we both broke his heart. With Pacey…He's just so giving, you know? His heart is so big and open, and he keeps on putting it out there for careless people like us to trample on, no matter how many times he gets hurt in the process. He's always prepared to risk that pain. I didn't fully realize the extent of the damage I'd caused until sophomore year at Worthington when I did it all over again, but…"

"You were together in college?" This was news to Dawson.

Joey's expression turned wistful. "Not technically, not really. I wasn't ready for him yet."

"What does that mean?"

"It means…What it means is that I have always loved him, Dawson. And while that love is stronger and more real than anything I've ever felt, the timing was all wrong. We were far too young, and we'd already hurt each other so much, I wasn't willing to take that chance again so soon. I was too scared. And, God, Pacey was just so _sure._ He knew. He was ready way before I was, and when he told me that I was it for him, I just…I panicked and ran."

Dawson frowned, trying to pinpoint the exact timing of this reunion. "When was this?"

"Right before the Stepatech collapse. That night at your house, when he told you that he'd lost everything, he meant it. I'd only dumped him a few weeks earlier."

"Oh." A lot of the undercurrents in that harrowing confrontation suddenly made more sense – especially the part where Pacey had seemed so much more concerned about Joey's reactions than he had Dawson's. "He seemed to rally fairly quickly, though."

"That's probably what he led you to believe, but underneath all that bravado, Pacey's more fragile than you might think. He might have thrown himself into his work and become this huge success, but on an emotional level…he was unhappy for a very long time, and what's worse is that he felt he deserved to be unhappy. And that's our fault - mine and yours. It took forever for him to let me close again, but I did eventually try to make it up to him, to repair some of the damage. There are many ways in which I never can."

She lowered her now-squirming son to the floor and watched bemusedly as he went straight for his favourite toy boat, before she met Dawson's eyes again.

"You really have no concept of how deeply you hurt him with your mistrust and denial, with your constant accusations. He loved you as a brother – possibly even more so considering how things were with Doug back then – and you just threw it back in his face, time and time again."

"It always comes back to that, doesn't it? To past actions. Our relationships have become defined by our history."

"Only because you couldn't get over it and move forward."

"I'm beginning to see that. God, right now, I've never been more aware of anything in my whole life." Dawson scrubbed his hands over his face, suddenly exhausted beyond measure. It had been a long day, and it continued to grow longer by the minute. He was so tired… "I should go."

"I think that's a good idea. We were supposed to go over to your Mom's to discuss the catering, but…"

"Oh. Yeah, probably best to put that off until tomorrow."

"Yeah." Joey pulled him in for a hug as he got to his feet. "It might not seem like it, but I _am_ glad you're here. I missed you, Dawson."

He allowed himself the solace of her embrace for the briefest of moments. "I missed you too."

Pacey stayed seated at the end of the dock. He didn't turn around, not even after Dawson's car had pulled out of the drive and he heard Joey's footsteps behind him, echoing hollowly on the wooden decking. "I'm not sorry."

"Why should you be?"

He glanced up at her then, taken aback by the mildness of her response. "I just…I don't know. I guess I figured you'd be mad at me for coming down on him so hard."

She shook her head and shifted Jake's weight to her other hip. The little boy was still drowsy, one thumb secure in his mouth as he stared out at the creek with heavy-lidded eyes. "I'm not mad. A warning of some description would have been appreciated, however. I was kind of surprised when you just erupted like that…"

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I think I've probably been practising that speech in my head for like, a decade or something."

"It sounded like it. I mean, a little less rehearsal would have gone a long way toward a better presentation. It was quite the lengthy diatribe."

Pacey eyed her with a dubious expression on his face, quite clearly questioning her sanity.

Joey grinned, her tongue cheekily poking out from between her teeth.

He chuckled ruefully then, stretching out one arm and curving it behind her knees, the only place he could reach from his current position. He squeezed her calf. "Quit editing my speeches, Potter."

"It wouldn't be necessary if you weren't such an incoherent half-wit." She batted the bill of his cap down over his face. As he straightened it back up, she glanced around. "Where's your daughter?"

Pacey hauled himself to his feet and adopted a professorial demeanour. "If Madame vould care to look to ze left," he began in an over-exaggerated German accent, sliding one arm around her and gesturing expansively in said direction with the other, "you vould vitness exhibit 'A', ze elder Witter seebling, engaged in what vone might call ze 'childhood exploraz-i-on'."

Joey forwent critiquing his performance in favour of following his instructions. Bonnie was knee-deep in the reeds, avidly examining a familiar-shaped mollusc. "Sea snail?"

"Sea snail," Pacey confirmed in his normal tone. He took Jake from her and swung him up onto his shoulders. Jake promptly stole his cap.

"Nice to see her following tradition," Joey commented. "Though, note how she's observing it in its natural habitat and not forcing it into unnatural sexual situations, unlike some I could mention."

"Gives you hope for her academic future, huh?"

"It does."

They watched in companionable quietude as Bonnie waded to the edge of the creek and placed the snail carefully into a plastic bucket. It seemed they were to have another of her adopted pets to tend to for a while.

"It's weird seeing Dawson again," Pacey said. He waited until she turned to meet his eyes before he smiled; one of those fleeting, slightly tentative grins that meant he was nervous. "Unexpected, I mean. How do you feel about it?"

She raised a brow. "Oh, so now I get to have a point of view? You sure you want the little missus to contribute to the conversation? You weren't so considerate earlier."

He opened his mouth to argue against his ever doing such a chauvinistic thing, then twigged that she was kidding and changed tack. "No, you're right. I really don't." He rolled his eyes skyward, shaking his head in disbelief at his own stupidity. "I don't know what I was thinking asking you that. I mean, I should know by now not to give you an inch or you'll take a country mile, possibly even the whole country. Once you get started there's no stopping you. It's like opening Pandora's Box. Do you realize you have an opinion on just about every subject under the sun? It's unbelievable…"

"Pacey?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

He gave her an exaggerated yet adorable pout, his lower lip jutting out like a little boy. Jake often wore the exact same expression, though at that particular moment he was preoccupied with repeatedly pulling his father's cap on and off his own head.

"I don't know how I feel," Joey said. "Although I am confused as to why Gale failed to mention that he was going to be here for the wedding. I was under the impression that he'd given all the usual excuses and couldn't make it. You saw Trent at the Icehouse today, right?"

Pacey nodded. "He made deliveries this morning as per usual. Didn't say a word."

"The plot thickens." Joey frowned. "I'm really not liking the sound of this, Pace. It feels like we're being ambushed. And if we've been kept in the dark, then what about…"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down." Pacey, as usual, had anticipated where her thoughts were heading. "You're getting ahead of yourself. We don't even know what's going on. And, she's a big girl…" He paused and grinned. "Well, not _big_, exactly, not in a proportional sense, but personality-wise she's always been pretty good at standing up for herself. I'm sure she can handle it."

Joey's frown deepened for a moment, but then she shrugged it off. "Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right."

"A-ha, but of _course_!"

He'd pulled out his much-used but never improved upon, faux-French accent this time. She ignored that, too. "Don't forget to pick some of that vegetation, Bonnie!" she called out. "You want that snail to be comfortable!"

"Three days max before we have another internee for the Bonnie Witter Memorial Pet Cemetery," Pacey predicted. "I'll book the hearse." One of his big hands came up to massage her shoulder. "You sure you're okay?"

She sighed and leant into his side. "With you here? Always."

"With Dawson here?"

"We'll have to wait and see."

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Even though he was only staying a week, Dawson took his time settling in at his old home, stopping every now and then to take in his surroundings. Each and every corner of the house was imbued with memories and the tiniest detail sent him again and again into prolonged bouts of nostalgia.

It was mid-afternoon before it finally dawned on him how he'd been so effectively ambushed.

He stormed downstairs and came to a halt in the middle of the living room, hands on hips, confronting the mastermind. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Can you give me a reason why I should have?"

The cool reply pricked his puffed-up indignation and he gaped in deflated astonishment. "What?"

Gale Leery, soon to be Bergman, tucked a strand of professionally highlighted hair behind her ear, not in the least bit ruffled by her son's incredulity. "What's the rationale behind your question? Is it idle curiosity, or are you looking for some fresh fodder for that show of yours?"

"I thought you liked my show."

"Well, I did. Initially. But then I noticed what it was you were really doing. You were using it as a vehicle for your revenge, to assassinate Pacey's character and make yourself out to be the hero of the story. I had never imagined that you could be so petty and I decided it was due time you had a taste of your own medicine. I didn't tell you about Pacey and Joey because if you didn't care enough to ask after them yourself, then you didn't have the right to know."

"_Mom_!"

"That's the unvarnished truth, Dawson. I watched you make both of their lives miserable before and I wasn't about to let it happen again." She shook her head. "I'm so ashamed that I allowed you do that. Regardless of whatever upheaval Mitch and I were struggling with at the time, we were your parents, and we failed to do our job. It was our responsibility to be less concerned with ourselves and more focused on you."

"But you _were_ focused on me. You guys were so supportive then."

"We were weak. You threw a tantrum, and unlike when you were two-years-old, we didn't have the backbone to get involved, to intervene on Joey and Pacey's behalf before it all got so out of control. For some crazy reason, we stood back. We watched you wheedle and coerce, and try to twist circumstances to suit your own purposes. Worse still, we actively encouraged the ridiculous notion of Joey being your soul mate."

"I didn't…Ridiculous? It's not ridiculous."

"Yes. It is." She leant forward, holding his eyes. "There is no such thing, Dawson, at least not in the way that you believe. But there is love. True love, _unselfish_ love. The kind that grows and adapts, but remains constant, unwavering during the good times and the bad. Despite what you may think, what you may try to convince yourself of through your repeated revisiting of the subject over the years, you have never, _ever_ loved Joey like that--"

"That's not…"

"--and Pacey did." Gale's tone was final. "He still does. And she deserves that."

That quieted him for a moment. "She does deserve that," he acknowledged. "I just can't wrap my head around why she…"

"Dawson!" Gale made a frustrated sound. "Can't you see? That's precisely why you two never worked. Apart from the fact that you weren't physically attracted to each other in the slightest – don't try to deny it, honey. I was there, and I have two perfectly functioning eyes - there was always the fundamental problem of you both intellectualizing everything, analysing every tiny detail to death." Gale sat back against the arm of the settee, cradling her coffee cup in both hands. "In matters of the heart, there shouldn't be any _thinking_ involved. And there certainly shouldn't be any caveats placed on a relationship, or ultimatums issued. You basically blackmailed her, Dawson. I still can't wrap _my_ head around that."

"So essentially, because you believed you failed as a parent, I've been left out of the loop?"

"No, I believe I've failed as a parent because you kept _yourself_ out of the loop. You preferred to stay on the other side of the country, locked up in your ivory tower because you felt safe there, untouched by outside forces. But that's not real life."

"It's my life, and it seems pretty real to me."

"Does it? Dawson, before today, when was the last time you saw Joey face to face?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "At her graduation, eight years ago."

"You want to tell me why that is, why you've chosen to not involve yourself in her life?"

"Mom, you're turning investigative reporter on me. I thought you gave that up."

His attempt at diversion merely earned him a disapproving look. "When I asked, Joey told me that she tried to stay in contact with you, but you stopped replying to her calls and e-mails."

He hunched his shoulders defensively. "I was busy."

"Alright, fine. I'll concede that point. Let me put it another way. When was the last time you personally opened the cards she sends for your birthday, or for Christmas? Do you even see them, or do they get relegated with the fan mail? You know that none of this would have come as a surprise if you'd only bothered to check for yourself, and not rely on some assistant or other to do it for you."

His defenses were becoming weaker, but he kept throwing them out in desperation. "When I'm working..."

"No. You don't work – you hide. You're more comfortable with the pretend versions of your friends than you are with the real ones."

Dawson found himself unable to form a coherent reply. She was right. She was absolutely right. He'd spent all this time playing God with fictional characters and expecting the real ones to have followed the same path. They'd had experiences in the meantime that had nothing to do with him – they knew their own minds and hearts better than he could ever hope to.

Maybe he should do something about that.

Morning hadn't brought any answers with it. And the dilemma was affecting the direction of the new script he was supposed to write. He didn't know these characters at all anymore, and altering their direction after all this time was going to throw a real spanner in the works. Did he really want to change everything he'd been building towards for the last five years – was he willing to take such a huge risk?

He deleted almost half of the paragraph he'd been struggling with, saved what was left, and firmly closed the lid on his laptop. He could deal with it later. After the wedding, when he was somewhere far, far away.

Sighing, he glanced over towards the open doorway as Lily appeared. Wearing jeans and a beat-up denim jacket that looked like one of his old rejects, she was the very antithesis of the bridesmaid she was to play the next day.

She leant against the jamb and twisted one of her long blonde braids around her fingers, checking for split ends. There was a long moment of silence.

"Do you think Trent would adopt me?" she asked suddenly.

Dawson frowned at her. He still didn't quite know how to take this older, bordering-on moody adolescent version of his baby sister. "Why?"

"'Cause I want use his last name." She tossed the braid back over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. "Actually, can I do that _without_ being adopted? Like, without all the official papers and stuff, I mean."

"You can. People do it all the time. It's called using a stage name, Lil."

"Cool."

He rocked back in his chair and regarded her steadily. "Isn't changing your name kind of disrespectful to Dad?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't know. I guess. It's not like I ever really knew the guy, though. Right?"

Dawson winced at the truth of that, feeling a twinge of guilt. It wasn't like he'd been around to help keep Mitch's memory alive either.

"Anyway, do you have any idea what it's like growing up with a name like 'Lily Leery'?" she demanded. "I mean, come on, what was Mom thinking?"

"It's not a _bad_ name..." Dawson mused.

"Oh yeah? Try saying it three times fast without getting tongue twisted. And then try it with braces." She tapped the gleaming nickel-plated hardware on her teeth with one finger.

Dawson contemplated that, muttering the name over and over under his breath. She had a point. It didn't really flow, did it? He wouldn't use it for one of his characters.

"Lily Bergman just sounds better. It's an old-style movie star kind of name." Lily nodded, decision made. "I'm just gonna start using that. And then, a couple of years from now, when you cast me in one of your films, I'll already at least _sound_ famous."

Dawson's brows rose. "You want to be an actress?"

"Well, duh! God, Dawson, what rock have you been living under?"

It was a good question – another one he didn't really have an answer for.

A few hours later, Dawson was minding his own business, browsing his way through the corner store and enjoying the old-fashioned quaintness of it all, when a shopping cart rounded the corner at the end of the aisle and nearly knocked him over.

He reeled sideways, narrowly avoiding a disastrous collision with a large pyramid of paper towel rolls. "Hey, watch where you're...Pacey?"

Pacey, still hunched down over the handle so that he was face level with the two giggling blue-eyed children he was transporting, barely spared him a glance. "Sorry about that." He backed up, made a few gunning-the-engine noises and then, swerving around the Dawson-shaped obstacle in his path, preceded full tilt towards the deli section, feet pounding against the smooth linoleum and the left rear wheel wobbling so badly it appeared in grave danger of falling off. A metallic clatter and childish laughter flowed in their wake.

"Hard to port, Captain!" Bonnie called out, saluting as they disappeared around the far corner.

Dawson gaped after them. He'd just been ignored. By Pacey. That had never happened before. He usually managed to rouse some kind of reaction from the other man whether he wanted it or not. This time Pacey had seemed determined to disregard him completely, as though Dawson wasn't worth making an effort for.

"Are you okay?"

He turned and blinked at Joey's concerned face. She was pushing a second cart, this one actually containing groceries. "Yeah. I think so."

"All toes present and accounted for?" She glanced at his feet, to check for herself.

"Yeah, I..." He sighed, eyes returning toward the route his former best friend had taken. "Pacey hates me, doesn't he? Not that I can blame the guy given all the bitterness and vitriolic ranting he's had to suffer through over the years, but…"

"Pacey doesn't hate you." Joey began stacking cans of baked beans in her cart. A lot more cans than seemed warranted for a small family of four, in Dawson's opinion. "I don't think he's figured out how to deal with you being here yet, that's all."

"Which implies that I need dealing with." He winced as a loud crash came from a few aisles over, followed by Pacey's apologetic shout.

"I've got it, Mr. Kelleher!"

Joey rolled her eyes. "Pacey?!" she yelled.

"I've got it, Jo!"

She scoffed and grabbed a couple of rolls from the paper towel pyramid, lining them up alongside her baked bean booty. "Overgrown delinquent," she muttered, though a smile was tugging at her lips.

"Some things never change, right?"

Joey graced him with a knowing look. "No, some things don't. The trouble with life, Dawson, is that most things do. You just have to learn to roll with the punches." She patted his arm like she would a loyal pet. "I'll see you tomorrow at the wedding, okay?"

Dawson could only nod and watch her walk away.

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

If asked, Dawson would have denied lurking on the porch, but that's exactly what he was doing.

He was supposed to be on ushering duty, but right at that moment he was too fixated on the occupants of the SUV pulling up into his mother's drive to be overly concerned with acknowledging any other arrivals. The shiny black sedan was essentially a new, improved - and infinitely more expensive - version of the Witter family truck. He hadn't really needed any further evidence that Pacey was doing well, but the luxury vehicle was final confirmation. He remembered all-too-well the sleek European auto and elegant tailored suits from the Pacey's first foray into fiscal prosperity, and it seemed that he hadn't lost that appreciation for the finer things in life.

The man himself got out first, effortlessly handsome in a rumpled grey suit with a white, open-necked silk shirt underneath. He immediately dove into the back to extricate John Jacob from his car seat, an apparently complicated procedure which included turning the giggling boy upside-down and dangling him by one leg.

Dawson tugged at the suffocatingly tight bow-tie that came with his tuxedo, feeling irrationally jealous that the other man had the luxury to go without. It remained a mystery to him why his mother had chosen to go formal in what was essentially her third wedding, though his attention was drawn away from dwelling on that fact as soon as Joey emerged from the passenger side of the car.

She, too, was dressed in silk, but not in the demure dark shades he'd normally expect of her.

Joey was the Woman in Red.

The dress itself was deceptively simple, designed along Grecian lines with a fitted crossover bodice and flowing skirt, but it clung to her like a second skin, accentuating every luscious curve. Defying the laws of gravity, it seemed to be held up by the single long tie that draped over her left shoulder, clasped with an elaborate gold pin. If it weren't for that tiny trinket, it appeared as though one good tug could have the whole ensemble unravel and collapse like a Jenga tower - and she couldn't have been wearing much underneath, because as she reached into the car to grab her purse, he noticed that there was nothing but bare skin all the way to her waist in the back.

He lost focus for a moment, playing the smitten Gene Wilder to her Kelly LeBrock, until someone gave him a hearty clap on the back and almost knocked him down the stairs.

"If Pacey catches you looking at her like that, you're a dead man walking," came the dry greeting.

"Yeah, but she is definitely worth the risk." Dawson shook himself out of his daze and aimed a smile at his assailant. "How are you, Jack?"

"Me? I'm peachy with a side of curious."

Dawson frowned. "About what?"

"Well, it seems to me a certain reclusive TV mogul ain't been seen in these parts for nigh on ten years. Makes a man ponder his reasoning, especially since he's got kin here."

"Is there a John Wayne festival playing at the Rialto?"

"Um, no, it's Ed Wood Week. Why?"

Dawson shook his head, chuckling. "No reason."

"Its International Talk like a Cowboy Day," a new voice explained.

Dawson turned to see the diminutive form of Jen Lindley coming up behind them and for a brief, strange moment everything was reduced to slow motion, much as it had been when a younger version of the same woman had emerged from a yellow taxicab years earlier and turned his world upside-down forever.

"They have one of those?" he asked, trying to shake off the vaguely ominous feeling the flashback had brought on, that there were more big changes on the horizon. His worldview really couldn't withstand any more topsy-turvy than it already had in the last couple of days. "I mean, I've heard of Talk like a Pirate Day, but…"

"Jack and Pacey invented it."

"Ah." Enlightenment dawned. "This wouldn't be in any way alcohol related by any chance?"

"My, how astute of you!" she applauded. "The custom does have a distinct alcoholic heritage, dating back…oh, about three years now, I think. I can't even remember the reason for the original celebration, but given the amount of double-malt consumed that evening, I would have thought they'd forgotten the whole thing. No such luck. It's just an unfortunate coincidence that it happens to coincide with Gale's wedding this year."

"That _is_ unfortunate, although seeing you again certainly is not. Hey, Jen." He reached out and dragged her into a hug, not missing the fact that she seemed unusually reticent about being in his arms. "You look amazing, as always."

"Um…yeah, okay." She patted his shoulder stiffly, before abruptly pulling away again. "Thanks, Dawson." She ducked behind Jack, almost as though using him for protection.

Above all else, Dawson was astounded by her uncharacteristic modesty. Because she did, indeed, look amazing. The Jen he remembered wouldn't have hesitated in drawing their attention to how spectacular her breasts looked in the figure-hugging lavender dress she wore. It wasn't as attention-grabbing as Joey's outfit, but lovely nonetheless and a much more sedate choice than he would have imagined.

"It's Inter-_dimensional_ Talk like a _Space_ Cowboy Day," Jack volunteered suddenly. "If you're going to mock us, at least get your facts straight."

Jen rolled her eyes. "Pardon my embarrassing faux pas."

Pacey wandered up to them then, baby Jake attached to his hip. "Howdy par-den-ers," he greeted, his accent considerably more Eastern than Western.

"Num, num," Jake chimed in.

Everyone laughed. That the child had even recognized that his father's salutation owed a greater debt to Peter Sellers than to Roy Rogers was a cause for a great deal of amusement within the group.

"Quite the chip off the old class clown, ya got there, Pace," Dawson commented, then winced, realizing how insulting that sounded. "Oh, uh…Sorry. Old habits."

"Yeah, whatever, man." The slight was instantly dismissed, water off a duck's back, as Pacey concentrated instead on catching Jen's eye, the look in his own bordering on concerned. The two of them shared a silent moment, before he nodded, satisfied with whatever she had conveyed to him.

Dawson was pleased that Pacey had spoken to him at all. It was the first time he'd really acknowledged his presence since that initial heated outburst at the house and could very well be taken an indication of a willingness to move forward.

Pacey shot a glance over his shoulder to check on Joey's whereabouts, and quirked a brow at her cautious, zig-zagging progress across the grass. An indulgent smile curved his lips. "Beware of Potters wearing impractical footwear," he murmured.

Joey scowled at him as though she had heard what he'd said. "Quit your wisecracking and go check on the catering team," she ordered, waving an imperious arm toward the reception marquee where an odd assortment of Hawaiian-shirted youngsters were arranging flowers and setting tables.

"Yes, ma'am." Pacey tipped an imaginary Stetson, and Witter & Son headed off do her bidding.

As he walked away, Dawson couldn't help but notice the other man's own footwear, and the corners of his mouth tugged up in reluctant amusement. Only Pacey could get away with wearing sneakers with that suit.

Joey finally reached the group and made a face at her husband's back. "I swear, if I hear anymore cowboy talk today, I won't be held responsible for my actions. Why the stupid thing has become a tradition is beyond me."

They all looked at Jack. His eyes darted around with a hint of paranoia. "What?"

"Why _did_ you start this tradition, Jack?" Jen asked.

He frowned and scratched his head, making a show of searching his memory. "Um, it was…a double celebration - of sorts. Doug was finally coming out to the Senior Witters, and Jo'd just found out she was pregnant with Jake. I was nervous, and Pacey was…shall we say, a little on the excited side?"

Jen nodded. "And that solves that mystery. I still don't get the cowboy thing, however."

"Well, my prickly little cactus flower, that was because…"

"Wait. Let's save that story for when I'm dozing off at the reception, Hoss."

"Hey, hey, I am _not_ Hoss!" Jack was emphatic. "If anything, I'm Little Joe."

"Well that explains a few things…" Jen's hazel eyes were twinkling with mirth.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Dawson burst out laughing. "Oh my God, this is priceless. I couldn't write this stuff if I tried."

Joey nudged him with her elbow. "Feels good to be back in the fold, huh?"

He shot her a sideways look from beneath his lashes. Given the strength of his reaction to her from a relatively safe distance, he wasn't willing to risk a direct face-to-face conversation just yet. "Yes, it does. I hadn't realized how much I missed it. I'm actually relishing the insanity."

"How's Gale doing? She holding up?"

"Mom's…calm. I've never seen her this calm, actually. It's like she's on some sort of emotional Prozac. She says it's because she has absolutely no reservations. That she knows she's doing the right thing."

Joey nodded. "Oh yeah, I know _that_ feeling."

Dawson took the chance and faced her. She wasn't paying any real attention to him, staring off in the direction Pacey had taken, rich hazelnut eyes gleaming with fond memory, and he was hit with a sudden pang of jealousy.

Nothing throughout the history of their relationship had ever put that look on her face. Nothing had been that certain, especially on her part. Everything had been second-guessed and analysed, and God, could he just please get past this already?

"You didn't get cold feet when you got married?"

"No, I didn't. Not even a tingle. I was, for the first time in my life, ready to stop running." Her mouth crooked in a secret smile. "Pacey, on the other hand…"

Dawson was horrified at the implication. "You're kidding?"

"Oh, it was no joking matter, believe me." Joey glanced over, meeting his eyes for the first time that day. "When he disappeared three days before the ceremony, it was…" She stopped and the smile deepened, becoming almost a smirk. "You know, actually, looking back on it now, it _was_ kind of funny."

"I see nothing amusing about him leaving you at the altar."

"Am I single?" Joey scoffed. "It wasn't anywhere near as melodramatic as all that. I mean, I knew he'd be back. He redeemed himself when he turned up with the Kitten at the last minute."

"He brought a cat?"

"A yacht."

"What?"

"The Skittish Kitten is a 30 foot monohull cruiser."

"Please, do _not_ tell me you two sailed off into the sunset again."

Joey shrugged. "Okay, I won't."

"It was nauseating," Jen said, reminding Dawson that he and Joey weren't actually alone, even though it had felt that way for a brief moment. "They played the total chick-flick cliché right down to the letter. My stomach almost couldn't take the syrupy daytime-soapiness of it all."

"I can appreciate that sentiment," Dawson told her.

Jen nodded. "Yeah. You know, when he split, I was about ready to track him down and tear him a new one, not to mention what Bessie had in mind for other choice parts of his anatomy, but Jo didn't even bat an eyelid, she just insisted we go on ahead with all the arrangements. She never doubted him for a second."

"Oh, I had seconds," Joey interjected. "I had _lots_ of seconds."

"Still wasn't enough for you to give up on him," Jen pointed out. "I would have been tearing my hair out. Not to mention the fact that he sold your damn car to help finance the whole thing."

"It was a classic Pacey manoeuvre," Joey said. "He was making the grand romantic gesture."

Dawson grimaced, and then jumped when he was poked none-too-gently in the ribs. He glared at the guilty finger's owner.

Jack stared back unrepentantly. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to, his disapproval was tangible and Dawson was glad when he was called away for the ceremony to begin.

xxx

"Psst…Gladys. That couple dancing, who are they again?"

"Where? Oh, that's the Witters. The boy is John and Mary's youngest and she's one of those Potter girls. They make such a striking pair, don't you think?"

He had no idea who the gossipy older ladies at the punchbowl were, but Dawson had to admit that they had a point. The couple in question were across the other side of the dance floor and were drawing more than their fair share of admiring gazes. Apart from both of them shooting off occasional checking-on-the-children glances, they couldn't keep their eyes off each other either, wrapped in their own private sensual bubble.

Pacey brought new meaning to casual chic with his suit-and-sneakers ensemble, dishevelled hair and stubble-dusted jaw, his laid-back demeanour making an interesting counterpoint to Joey's natural elegance and grace. They were engaged in a shambling semblance of a waltz that basically involved rocking from side to side in a vaguely circular pattern.

On closer inspection, though, any further concessions to dancing were negligible at best.

For a start, they were practically fused together from chest to knee. One of Joey's hands may have been resting demurely on Pacey's lapel, but the other was tucked around inside his jacket doing God-knew-what, God-knew-where. Pacey wasn't as discreet, pushing the boundaries of common decency with both his large hands splayed possessively across the golden expanse of skin revealed by the low-cut back of her dress. His long fingers trailed up and down the dip in her spine, occasionally even venturing beneath the smooth scarlet material into forbidden territory.

On one such excursion, Joey leant forward to whisper something into her husband's ear that had him chuckling. She grinned and laid her cheek against his shoulder, pressing her face to his throat and breathing deep. That wayward hand of hers became visible, sliding down to palm his butt. Pacey reciprocated in kind, then squeezed. She allowed the contact for a moment, then she slapped him away, cheeks pink, embarrassed eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed.

Dawson averted his eyes, downing his glass of wine in one big gulp.

Jack wandered up alongside, a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers. He checked his watch. "What do you know, it's 'drowning your sorrows' o'clock already."

Dawson gave that the mockingly sarcastic laugh it deserved. "Well, I have to say that bearing witness to - to…_that_," he waved a hand in the general vicinity of the dance floor, "is enough to drive anyone to drink, let alone someone with a personal stake in…" He trailed off, not sure he should finish that sentence. "Are they always like this?"

"Yes," Jack said flatly. "And sometimes it's even worse." His storm-cloud-grey eyes regarded Dawson steadily. "They're happy," he went on. "They're happier and more content and more in love than anyone I've ever seen, and if you do even one thing to try and interfere, or to hurt them or _anyone_ else, I will end you. Understand?"

It took a moment for the threat to register, but when it did Dawson stared at him, shocked. "What?" Was he serious?

"I think I made myself pretty clear." Deadly serious, it seemed.

Jack caught Doug's eye over by the buffet, his handsome partner appearing decidedly parental with John Jacob ensconced in his arms. They shared a long moment of silent communication before Doug's icy blue eyes sliced into Dawson's and he nodded, indicating his endorsement of Jack's intent, before dismissing him in favour of feeding canapés to his nephew.

"Okay then," Jack said, breaking the now-awkward silence. "My duty here is done. I'll see ya." He clapped the other man on the shoulder, and then wandered off to join his partner, leaving Dawson with more questions than ever. Beginning with what the hell had just happened, and why?

From the corner of his eye, he saw Pacey bow Joey over into a romantic dip, his hand cupped behind her head, his lips meeting hers in a lingering kiss. By the time they were upright again, she had a decidedly dazed look on her face. Fortunately for Dawson's sanity, Pacey only had a chance to give her a further peck on the cheek before they were interrupted by the arrival of Bonnie, who scampered up and attached herself to her father's leg.

"Dance with me, Daddy!"

"Well, it would be my pleasure, darlin'."

Pacey had nothing but the biggest of smiles for Bonnie, but Dawson couldn't help but notice how he caught Joey's eye as she moved away, mouthing the word 'later' at her and winking. She made a sad, pouty face, but nodded and conceded her place to their daughter.

Bonnie stepped atop her father's shoes and they began a shuffling two-step. It was clumsy and awkward, and Pacey kept making exaggeratedly pained faces over her head to their audience as his toes were systematically crushed, but Joey was practically glowing as she watched them.

It was almost enough to make a grown man cry.

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

After the bride and groom had departed for their honeymoon in a whirlwind of confetti and congratulations, the festivities continued on without them late into the afternoon.

Dawson was a little the worse for wear; his cummerbund had vanished into the ether, never to be found again, and his tie was dangling lose around his neck. However bedraggled his appearance, though, he hadn't felt this relaxed in a good long while and was actually enjoying himself for a change. Taking yet another swig of wine, he tipped his head and contemplated his mom's attendants.

Lily, Bonnie and Amy were over by the gift table, appraising its varied treasures. Clad in matching satin dresses of pink, cream and blue respectively, they were a giggling huddle of sweetness and light. His eyes were drawn to the two blonde girls in particular.

"Lily and Amy almost look like sisters, don't they," he commented.

Jen nearly choked on her drink.

Joey patted her on the back; her face contorted in a sympathetic grimace.

"Really?" Pacey asked, posing the question in a deceptively light tone of voice. "What makes you say that?"

Jen whimpered then, but Dawson apparently didn't hear it.

"Well, they're both blonde and blue-eyed, and they…" He let out a short, incredulous bark of laughter, "They almost seem to have the same shaped face, but that's kind of impossible, right?"

"Yeah, you'd think," Pacey drawled. He rocked on the balls of his feet, almost on the verge of bouncing; a smug 'I know something you don't' kind of bounce.

Dawson aimed a suspicious glance his way, but the other man was oblivious, too busy engaging in a staring competition with his wife. Joey's lips were pressed together, her features taking on that pinched look she got when something was wrong. His suspicion only grew.

"What?" he demanded.

Joey blinked at him, startled, but not before her eyes had momentarily flickered to Jen.

Dawson noticed this time. "Okay, that's it. What the hell is going on, Jo? Jen?"

Both women ignored him, their wide plaintive eyes instead turned to Pacey, pleading for rescue.

"Well!" Pacey said brightly, clapping his hands and then rubbing the palms together. "I don't know about you guys, but all this matrimonial malarkey has left me a mite on the hungry side. Anyone want to raid buffet table with me? Not to sound conceited or anything, but I can guarantee you there's some mighty tasty fixins on offer."

It was a blatant attempt to change the subject and Dawson wasn't taking the bait.

"While your diversional efforts are appreciated, they leave a lot to be desired. I'm not gullible enough to think that you're really that eager for food right now, Pace."

"Oh, I'm always eager for oral sustenance, my friend."

"_But_, even if I were to take your flimsy excuse at face value, the body language in this little group in and of itself speaks volumes. I know you're all hiding something. I'd like to know what it is." He regarded each of them impartially, and when no answer was forthcoming, sighed heavily. "Look, I just want to be included again, you know? I've missed so much the last few years, I…if it's okay with you guys, I'd really like to reclaim my place in the Capeside inner circle."

Pacey pursed his lips and contemplated his shoes with a studied intensity, Joey looked pained, and Jen…

She turned around and walked away.

Dawson gaped at her retreating form, and it didn't escape his notice that Jack scrambled up from his seat at a nearby table, dumping Jake onto Doug's lap before chasing after her. Something was very wrong with this picture.

He frowned at the two blonde girls that had caused the whole thing to begin with. There was some sort of clue to be found there, the key to solving the mystery. He wondered what it was…

Pacey cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "I'm just…" He exchanged another fleeting look with Joey and then waved a hand towards his brother, "I'm gonna go rescue Dougie from the tantrum-throwing rug-rat, alright? Okay, then." He nodded as if he had already received their acquiescence, then turned on his heel and suited action to his words, making a beeline for the table where Jake was indeed beginning to cause a scene, much to the straight-laced lawman's chagrin.

Dawson ignored him, keeping his stare levelled on Joey. She was his sole source of information now, and she had never been shy about telling the truth. Excepting, of course, that time eons ago when she and Pacey had first become romantically entangled and were carrying on behind his back, but he'd since forgiven her for that. And regardless of that past hormonal-induced indiscretion, she had never pulled her punches with him - with anyone, really - and he was hoping that that much, at least, hadn't changed.

"I don't know if you remember," she began. "But Jen and I once had quite the rivalry going over you." She paused, tossing him a rueful smile. "No, I know for a fact that you _do_ remember, because your young doppelganger revels in it each week on The Creek."

He grinned. "He really, really does. Sami and Jan have had many verbal sparring sessions regarding our dashing protagonist Colby. Also the occasional cat-fight. I'm quite proud of that brawl they had on the beach that time, it was a killer to write."

Joey held up a hand. "Disregarding for the moment your obviously deluded exaggeration of the past, you might want to focus on the fact that Jen did once have genuine feelings for you, feelings that she has acted on."

Dawson tried to mentally scout ahead, to plot a safe path through the territory she was heading into. "Yes, she did. I believe the word 'devirginization' was coined to mark the occasion."

Joey held his gaze and raised her brows expectantly, she was obviously trying to tell him something and he struggled to make out what it was. He seemed to have lost his touch at deciphering her psychic shorthand over the years, if he'd ever actually held such a skill.

She sighed. "Dawson, are you being deliberately obtuse? Because you're not usually this slow."

A beat, a tick of the clock, and a memory floated to the surface. One very special night in New York, a weekend actually, about six years ago, right before the studio had accepted his script…

Six years…

His eyes shot back to the younger of the two blonde girls and he heard himself making a sound he'd never heard himself make before, a wheezy, choking sound. "Oh…God. Oh my God. Jen and - and I, and then…Amy…?"

Joey nodded shortly. "Right, so now you know," she said. "Do something about it."

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Dawson didn't know what he had been expecting, turning up at the B&B at this time of night.

Jen had refused point-blank to see him, relaying that fact through a way overprotective Jack and Doug, who had been standing watch her door like a mismatched pair of guard dogs. He really needed to talk to someone, to try and straighten out what was going on in his head. With nowhere else to turn, and despite everything that had happened, the first person he'd thought of had still been Joey.

He hadn't anticipated seeing Pacey slouched on one of wicker loveseats on the back porch, still dressed in the suit he'd worn to the wedding, alone in the dark and engaged in deep, brooding contemplation of the moonlit creek. He wondered what the other man had to look so melancholy about. He had the perfect life – the life that was rightfully Dawson's.

He was about to make his presence known when a light flicked on and Joey appeared in the doorway. She wasn't as fully-clothed as Pacey. In fact, if Dawson had to hazard a guess, he would say that she was completely nude beneath the short towelling robe she had on. All thoughts of Jen and Amy scattered into the wind and he ducked furtively back behind the latticework, not wanting to be seen just yet.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked softly.

Pacey glanced over at her, his brows shooting up when he noticed her attire, or lack thereof. He let out an appreciative whistle. "Nice gams, Potter."

"You like?" Joey parted her robe a fraction, flashing him a long length of bare thigh.

"I don't think 'like' is a strong enough word."

Dawson silently agreed.

The red dress had been stunning, but stripped back like this, au naturel, she looked even more incredible; a modern-day temptress wrapped in the guise of an old-school Hollywood sex-kitten. Her flawless face and slender-yet-curvaceous figure sculpted along the same lines as Jane Russell or Gene Tierney, this new grown-up Joey was possessed of a dark, sultry beauty that took his breath away.

He didn't really want to examine his motivations for remaining hidden in the shadows like some kind of pervert, but he'd always been curious as to how they interacted when other people weren't around, and he wanted to appease that curiosity. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. Obviously there had to be something more between the two than the public face of witty banter, threats and insults. Joey would never have gotten sucked in by Pacey's line of bull otherwise, no matter how charming he could be.

Joey left the doorway and moved across the porch, slinking like a cat, eventually coming to a halt with her feet balanced on either side of Pacey's long, outstretched legs, almost straddling his lap. She waited silently.

Pacey tipped his head back, eyes lingering every step of the way, and gave her a slow, sly grin. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs Witter?"

"What is this 'trying' of which you speak?" she asked, leaning in to tug at the buttons of his white silk shirt, undoing them one by one. He wasn't wearing an undershirt, and Dawson blinked at the lean, athletic torso slowly being exposed - complete with washboard abs, no less.

When did Pacey find the time to work out? And why in the world was he staring at Pacey's naked chest in the first place? Why wasn't he revealing his position, or better yet, leaving?

The other man was content to sit and watch her progress, clearly amused by her actions. After a beat, he reached up to trace her delicate collarbone with the very tips of his fingers. "You looked particularly lovely today, you know." His voice had taken on a husky quality, low and intimate.

Joey snorted, reaching the last button and wrenching his shirt open with a dramatically triumphant flourish. "You can cut the sweet talk, Mr Smooth. I just want it hard and fast tonight."

Dawson's eyes just about goggled. He had never once imagined that such a thing would come out of Joey Potter's mouth, let alone bear witness to it.

"Well, that's a little demanding, don't you think?" Pacey protested. "You ever consider that maybe I'm not in the mood?" Off Joey's deadpan stare, he smiled sheepishly. "Not buyin' that, huh?"

"Not so much, no."

He shrugged. "Alright, yeah, so it's a moot point, but, you know, usually you like the sweet talk almost as much as I do. All that romantic stuff gets you hot."

She began stroking his skin, her fingers dipping and weaving along the remarkable topography created by his stomach muscles. "Pacey, the words don't matter. It's your _voice_ that has always affected me like that. You could read the specials menu at the Icehouse and I'd be ready to molest you on the bar, regardless of whether there were customers present."

"Oh, is that right?" Pacey still hadn't moved. He had, in fact, taken on an unnatural predatory calm. "Thanks for the tip. I'll have to test that sometime."

"Okay, fine. But, for right now, the kids are finally asleep and I've been ready since I first saw you in that suit. You've only been making it worse by teasing me all day, so step to it." She pinched one of his nipples for emphasis.

Pacey let out a growl then. "_Yes, ma'am_."

His control reaching breaking point, he seized her hips, yanking her forward onto his lap, his lips meeting hers in the hungriest, most passionate kiss that Dawson had ever witnessed outside of the manufactured love scenes he'd become accustomed to. He'd even directed a few of the better ones, but none of them had ever come close to this, and for one very specific reason.

This was real.

This was, for all intents and purposes, a live demonstration of the chemistry that had used to frighten Dawson so much. It was all well and good when they had channelled that passion into hating each other - he had even been known to enjoy their quickdraw snark-and-destroy banter, had revelled in it, encouraged it, and even used it for his own means on occasion - but when it had been directed along more amorous lines: instant combustion. Seeing it so up close and personal made Dawson feel kind of like Richard Dreyfuss gazing upon the alien craft in Close Encounters. He could only watch - awestruck.

It was a white-hot inferno, a teeth-clashing tongue-tangling collision; a fiery train wreck of an embrace that generated a heat so intense it hurt his eyes to look at it. He squirmed, feeling like the worst kind of peeping tom, but unable to tear himself away, their image burning itself onto his retinas.

He was enthralled, inspired, and so turned on he could barely stand still.

Joey moaned into Pacey's mouth, her fingers delving into his thick hair, her slender body arching against his more muscular form. Pacey's own hands slid down from her hips, taking a moment to clutch and squeeze her firm buttocks, before burrowing beneath the hem of her robe and inching their way back up. It wasn't clear what he was doing under there, but a scant minute later something made her gasp and throw her head back in abandon.

"Oh, God…Pace…"

"Hmm?"

"Now."

"Already?"

"I told you!" She pouted, her breathy little-girl voice all but pleading with him. "Please, Pacey, I just…I need…"

"Shhh. It's okay. I know what you need." Pacey delved between them and worked at the fastening of his pants, opening them and shoving them down just far enough for her to lower herself onto him.

They both sighed when she was fully seated; their foreheads pressed affectionately together, noses bumping. "So…hard and fast, huh?" he whispered.

"Yep. Gonna ride you like a racehorse, baby."

There was a pause and Pacey burst out laughing. "_What_?"

"I read it somewhere once," she said, giggling. "Consider yourself seduced."

He waggled his brows like Groucho Marx, then dipped forward to kiss her, caught by the curve of her crooked smile.

"Giddy-up," she muttered against his mouth.

Pacey's answering snicker dissolved into a tortured groan as Joey began moving in a steady rhythm, building towards the gallop she'd promised.

For the first time, it occurred to Dawson that their verbal interactions weren't really any different from any number of snippy little arguments they used to have as kids. He realized with sudden insight that they hadn't really hated each other back then, that all the bickering and sometimes violent physicality had always had a certain sexual undertone. It had in actuality been a form of foreplay. They'd been _flirting_.

He felt sick. All the entertainment industry awards in the world wouldn't ever help him regain his place in her heart - Pacey had stolen his way inside well before any of them had a chance to comprehend it.

When it came down to it, the kind of love he and Joey had shared had always been safe, warm and sweet, almost chaste, and ultimately unthreatening. What she and Pacey shared, on the other hand, was a great hulking behemoth, an all-consuming earth shattering colossus of emotion, something that was bigger than all of them. He'd seen it from that very first moment that he'd confronted them on the back lawn of his house – the way Pacey had looked at her then had scared him witless. It terrified him, because he knew that he couldn't explain it away or even hope to compete with it.

Dawson had always dragged her down. He had tried to smother her with his love, to wrap her up in it and bind her forever to his side. Pacey's love set her free, made her come alive in a way he'd never seen with anyone else.

Like now, for example.

Dawson licked his lips as the couple's intimate movements became more and more frantic. A stream of babble began tumbling from Joey's mouth. "You…There's never been any--oh!--anyone else who could…Only you, sweetheart. Only ever you."

"Always my girl," Pacey agreed feverishly, panting against her parted lips. "God, Jo, you're so…" Whatever glowing adjective he was about to use was lost when she attacked his mouth again, dragging him under in another soul-deep kiss.

Time passed. It could have been minutes; it could have been hours for all Dawson knew. All he could see was the two of them, undulating together in that perfect rhythmic synchrony, natural and fluid, like a tide against the shore. All he could hear was the wet slap of their flesh, their murmured endearments and encouragements and gasping breaths.

Dawson gasped right along with them.

Mortified, shamed beyond measure, he finally tore his gaze free and began backing away, his retreat turning into a full-on run for escape the moment he passed the corner of the house.

Their cries of shared ecstasy followed him into the darkness.

…

_A/N: Sorry that I took so long to post this, but there was some pretty heavy editing required for it to fit the rating system on this site. The longer version is a teensy bit more graphic._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Dawson drained the last of his coffee and stared mournfully into the empty mug. "I just don't understand why she didn't tell me. It's not like I was off studying penguin mating habits in the Antarctic or something. She knew where to find me."

Joey took the mug from his hand and dunked it into the sink, soapy water sloshing wrist-high as she rinsed it and set it out to drain. She sighed. "Is there any particular reason why you're having this discussion with me and not Jen?"

He narrowed his eyes at the worrying efficiency of her housekeeping. "I don't know. Is there any particular reason why you're trying to rush me out of the house?"

"I'm not entirely comfortable having this conversation with you. I'm too personally involved in the situation to be impartial, and it's just…It's just too…" Joey stopped, pursing her lips closed around whatever had been about to come out of her mouth. She hunched her shoulders and dried her hands on a dishcloth in lieu of speaking.

His nostrils flared, temper rising at her dismissive attitude. "It's too what? Hard? Let me tell you about hard, Joey. Hard is coming home after eight years and finding out that not only has the woman you've loved your whole life settled for marrying your arch nemesis in your absence, she's also given up a promising career in favour of playing house. That she's become the very thing she used to despise."

"Oh my God!" Joey slapped the cloth down on the bench, wishing it was something harder and that she was actually smacking it against his big fat head. "I can't believe you feel you have the right to come in here and say things like that to me."

"Why not? It's true."

"It couldn't be any further from the truth if it tried."

"But, you and I - we were supposed to be forever. Soul mates, remember?"

"Does anything ever penetrate that insular rose-coloured bubble you've created around yourself? It's like you're suffering from a delusional psychosis or something. I dated you for four months, fifteen years ago, and we had a disastrous one-night-stand in college. In what universe does that make you my eternal soul mate?"

"Joey, come on. The only reason you're with Pacey now is because I wasn't here."

"No. The reason I'm not with you is because you're not him. You're too in love with yourself to even come close." She shook her head, disgusted. "I can't believe I defended you, that I excused your actions. Pacey's been trying to tell me all these years, but…He was right all along. You really have no concept of reality, do you? You never have."

"What's not real, Jo? The fact that I'm a successful, renowned writer, director and producer who can offer you the kind of life you deserve to…"

"Do you actually believe that Pacey's not successful?"

Dawson chose to ignore the icy calm of her voice, the steady conviction that she had done the right thing in choosing this way of life. "I--"

"No, really. Because if you measure success by what a wonderful man he is, by how he's such a loving husband and father despite his own upbringing, by how he always tries to do the right thing no matter what the cost, how he changes people's lives just by being himself, how he believes in them unwaveringly and supports their decisions without any thought for his own well-being, then Pacey is the most successful person I know." She was glaring at him so intently now that he was beginning to get worried. She looked like she wanted to hurt him. "But, if you gauge his success by superficial, materialistic things like money and social standing, well then he's got you beat there too."

Dawson blinked. "What? I don't understand. You're living in your childhood home and raising two kids, while he's slaving away over a hot stove in some Podunk eatery…"

Joey laughed, though it wasn't a particularly happy sound. "Dawson, you're assuming things again. We live this way because we like it, not because we're forced to. In fact, Pacey and I have a number of properties we could be living in. Grams' old house for one. Jen's there with Amy, but she pays rent. So do Jack and Doug for that matter."

"But, how…"

"Pacey didn't just sit around on his ass all these years, Dawson. After Stepatech fell through, he came back home to lick his wounds, but he wasn't done by any stretch of the imagination. He learned from his mistakes, and while he went back to doing what he loved, working as a chef at one of the restaurants in town, he was smart enough to invest some of his wages. He wasn't lying when he told you he was good at being a stockbroker – he's brilliant at it. He spent a lot of time studying for certification and working his way through the ranks at that company, and strangely enough all that training didn't just miraculously disappear when he left."

Dawson frowned. He'd never really thought about it, but given the way that Pacey had barely scraped by in high school, what he had achieved in the years following was particularly impressive, and yet another thing he'd never been given any real credit for.

"When he had enough capital behind him," Joey went on, "he started buying up investment property, but he was still working on his cooking skills on the side and learning everything he could about the restaurant business. Eventually, he went in partners with Doug and reopened the Icehouse. A couple of years ago we expanded and opened the Firehouse over in Providence."

"The Firehouse? Bessie and Bodie's place?" Dawson had not even noticed the correlation in the names when she'd first explained her sister's whereabouts. His mind was reeling with the connotations. Pacey was creating a franchise?

"They manage it, yes, but we own it. We have plans for a third place up in Boston, too."

"So, what? You're rich?"

"We're not poor. In fact, just for your edification, Pacey's well on his way to becoming one of the most influential and respected businessmen on the Cape. But that's not really important to us. What's important is that we're together, and we're happy. _I'm_ happy. I'd expect you to be happy _for_ me, not to come in here throwing your weight around and questioning both his choices and mine."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Yes, it is. Look, I'm not some fairytale princess that needs rescuing from her horrible scullery-maid existence. And even if I were, it's not your place to do the rescuing. It never was. I mean, come on, both my pregnancies _combined_ lasted longer than we did."

He frowned. He didn't like to think that their connection was limited to something as mundane as 'time'.

"You ever stop to wonder why that was?" Joey asked. "Why we couldn't make it work? I mean, for the longest time I thought it was because I couldn't hope to live up to your expectations, but the truth is, you never lived up to mine. It was just as guilty as you in making us out to be something we weren't. And in the long run, Pacey was the one who suffered for it. He never _had_ any expectations. He didn't think he deserved them because he wasn't you. He's been compared to you his whole life, and always been given the short end of the stick. He wasn't good enough; he wasn't the fair-haired boy with the world at his feet. And yet he overcame it all and became this, this…_amazing_ man. I won't have you tainting that. Either get over yourself, Dawson, or get out. I refuse to hear it anymore."

Dawson swallowed. She meant it; he could see it in her eyes. She'd really have nothing more to do with him – and if she didn't, none of them would. Especially Jen – and, by association, Amy.

His daughter. God…He had a daughter…

What was he doing? He was running around in circles, chasing his own tail, trying to hold on to a past that never really existed, except as an extended re-run in his own imagination. He had a future to look forward to, and a little girl to get to know. He had to get past this, to break the never-ending cycle of accusation and blame.

"Wan' cookie," a little voice demanded.

Joey glanced over to see John Jacob tugging at the pantry door, determined to get in despite the childproofed handle. "Later," she said.

"Wan' cookie now!" Jake yanked harder, only to fall on his backside. He got determinedly to his feet and tried again, a dark scowl on his round elfin face.

Dawson found himself smiling. "Now that's a stubborn streak that seems uncannily familiar."

"Oh, you have no idea." Joey walked over to pick the child up. Surprisingly, there was no tantrum forthcoming. She merely carried him over to the kitchen, sat him down on the tiles and handed him a spoon and a plastic mixing bowl. "There you go, Chef Witter Junior. Bake," she instructed. "Make your own cookies."

"Like Daddy?" Attention diverted, Jake blinked up at her with wide blue eyes.

He had never looked more like a miniature Pacey than he did at that moment, and Dawson was almost overcome by a wave of nostalgia so strong he wanted to cry.

"Yes, like Daddy." When Joey looked back up at her guest, she was shocked to see the tears in his eyes. "Dawson? Are you alright?"

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore, Jo." He swiped at his cheek, but didn't take his eyes off the little boy. "I think I'm lost."

Joey didn't know what to say. She didn't know how to help him. The only way he was going to be able to move forward was if he worked the problem out for himself. No-one else could do it for him.

"How did I let myself get to this point?" he continued. "It's like nothing makes sense to me, and all coming home has done is made me realize that the only thing that ever made sense to me was you, and we're not even together anymore."

Joey pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned in frustration, all sympathy evaporating. "God, I can't keep having this same conversation with you. It's like I'm repeatedly banging my head up against a brick wall." She made a point of meeting his gaze and holding it. "Listen to me carefully, Dawson. _Hear me_. We won't _ever_ be together again. Can you understand that? Whatever slim chance we might have had came and went a long, long time ago, and even then, what we thought was love couldn't have been, because we got over it far too easily. At least, I did. I'm with Pacey now because I never ever stopped loving him, not for a second. That's how I knew it was real."

Dawson winced as an unwanted vision of their entwined bodies from the night before flashed through his mind's eye, and the realizations it evoked welled up once more. Nothing like the unvarnished truth-speaking of one Josephine Witter to rub salt into recently reopened old wounds. "I'd have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to see that what you and Pacey have is real, Jo," he admitted. "It's just…I can't seem to move forward. My whole life is the past now. I spend every day reliving it, having other people act it out, wondering where I went wrong, and trying to rewrite it, to change it so that the happy ending is mine and not his." He sighed despondently. "He won."

"It wasn't ever a competition, Dawson, and you shouldn't have made it out to be. Then or now. I mean, that show of yours kills him a little bit each week, did you know that? You've portrayed him as this devious, scheming Lothario, but none of what happened was planned. It just happened."

"It didn't _just happen_!" His temper flared anew. She'd jabbed him right in a sore spot. "My best friend chose to pursue a relationship with my girlfriend, how is that not premeditated on his part?"

"I wasn't your girlfriend, which is only the first of many things wrong with that sentence."

"No. You weren't. And that's the reason you turned to him, because you were lonely, or bored, or whatever the hell it was. I mean, Pacey was always quick to take advantage of vulnerable women. And you can't tell me you weren't sneaking around. You guys had all those handy excuses – the tutoring, the dance lessons, working on True Love…and, God, if that isn't some kind of cruel metaphor, I don't know what is…"

The slap surprised them both. Dawson gaped at her, the rapidly reddening imprint of her fingers stark against his white cheek. A long silence ensued, broken only by the clatter of John Jacob's enthusiastic play-mixing. Thankfully he hadn't noticed anything amiss.

Joey recovered first. "Get out of my house."

"Joey…"

"No. I warned you, Dawson. I won't stand here and listen to your twisted, revisionist, and frankly, disturbing version of events past. You don't know the truth. You can't. You never cared to find out. All that mattered to you was that Pacey had apparently taken something that you considered yours. Well screw that, and screw you."

"Jo, I'm sor--"

"Get. Out." When he failed to move, she set her jaw. "Don't make me come over there and physically force you out the door, because you know I'll do it."

Dawson wouldn't put it past her. Reluctantly, he decided to cut his losses for the time being and turned to go. He made one last attempt at an apology before he crossed the threshold, but she wasn't willing to hear it, she just glared defiantly and jabbed a finger at the exit.

Outside on the porch, he stopped to gather his thought. He'd ruined everything. He'd not only torn down what little had remained of the bridges between them; he'd then gleefully blown up the pieces behind him. The damage may very well be irreparable this time, impossible to mend.

What was he supposed to do now?

**…**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Dawson was certain that he was about to lay his very last cards down on the table, that he was playing the final hand in a decades-long game. After the argument with Joey, he'd wandered for a while - just thinking things over, and he believed he'd finally pinpointed exactly where he'd gone wrong.

The best way to set things straight was to repair the worst of the damage first. If he could do that, then the rest of the job should be relatively easy. And the first step was to make amends with the one person that he'd hurt the most.

He'd made his way down to the Marina, to where the Skittish Kitten was moored.

Now, standing with his hands on his hips and staring at the man on the yacht's deck, he found himself wondering when the skinny, smart-mouthed boy he remembered from his youth had transformed into someone that he wouldn't think twice about casting as the lead in one of his movies. Why was it that he hadn't ever recognized Pacey's potential? The star quality that had proven so elusive during casting for The Creek virtually exuded from his every pore. He'd been such a natural when they were making that Sea Creature thing, too. Jeez, and he called himself a filmmaker...

A giggle reached his ears and he glanced towards its source, noticing a couple of teenaged girls a few berths further down the pier. They were staring too. In fact, they were practically drooling over the side of their daddy's luxury cruiser. As he watched, one of them took a photo with her cell phone, shared it with her companion and then began thumbing the keypad with a shockingly rapid finesse, apparently spreading the word about this manly specimen to her socialite friends.

Pacey wasn't aware of his audience, though he couldn't have been playing more to them if he'd tried. Shirtless, he was coiling a length of rope around his forearm, lean muscles bunching and rippling with the movement. The sun had gilded his already bronzed skin, and the breeze ruffled his thick hair like an indulgent old friend.

As he truly took in the full picture though, Dawson had to bite back a grin. Because as undeniably handsome and sea-god-like as Pacey appeared right then, there was one dead giveaway that he hadn't entirely let go of that younger version of himself.

The loudest pair of board shorts that Dawson had ever borne witness to were slung low on his narrow hips. The bright blues and greens of the floral pattern, and the electric orange piping a vivid technicolour contrast to the tan of his bare chest. They practically screamed 'obnoxious' – a definite throwback to Old Pacey.

It only was when he turned to sling the coil into a nearby container that Dawson noticed the tattoo.

The flat muscular plane along the rear of his right shoulder was adorned with a large black-and-grey rendering of a familiar-looking yacht, sailing at full clip on a stylized ocean, white-crested waves rippling beneath a starlit night sky. The elaborate lettering on the scrollwork beneath it could be read quite clearly:

_True Love._

As beautiful as the artwork was, the sight of it was jolting. This was a distinctly New Pacey attribute; the man he remembered wouldn't have had a tattoo – not in a million years.

"Nice ink, Pace."

Pacey shot him a sharp look, at first startled to see him, and then checking to see if the compliment was sincere or not. After a moment, he nodded. "Thanks." Then, realizing that Dawson was seeking an explanation, he shrugged and added, "It's pretty old now; I sometimes forget it's even there."

"When did you…?"

"Oh, ah…the summer that Jo finally made her French connection, I got myself the hell out of Capeside as well. I had to go get my head on straight. The last time that was necessary I'd spent my summer crewing in the Caribbean, but this time around one of my former shipmates and I wound up in Miami. There's this cool shop in South Beach that's…" He stopped and frowned, as though he'd suddenly realized who he was talking to. "What are you doing down here anyway? Looking for trouble?"

"I already found it, actually. Or it found me. That's why I'm here. Look, I suppose you're going to find out soon enough, but…um…"

"What did you do?" Pacey's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint sparking to life - one that only proved to make Dawson even more nervous.

"Joey hit me," he blurted.

"Good for her. What did _you_ do?"

"The same thing I always do. I opened my mouth and then I stuck my foot into it. Both feet. And it landed me on my ass."

Pacey just stared at him, a muscle ticking in his jaw, and for a second there Dawson thought he was about to pick up where Joey'd left off, but then he scoffed and shook his head. "Just another case of the chronic Leery Syndrome then. Nice to know some things never change." He picked up another coil of rope from the deck and tossed it in after its companion.

"I'm glad my crippling affliction amuses you." Pleased that he'd managed to get though this latest confrontation still breathing, Dawson gave the vessel a once over, taking in the sleek lines and the gleaming navy-coloured hull that was obviously yet another tribute to the lost True Love. "She's a beautiful boat, Pace. You taking her out?"

"Yeah. Just a quick run around the bay before the regular family trip on Sunday."

Dawson nodded, taking a moment to gather his courage. "Well, if you're in need of a first mate, I'm volunteering." He tipped his chin at the gangway. "Permission to come aboard, Captain Witter?"

There was a long pause as Pacey contemplated his answer. "Granted," he said, and then raised a cautioning finger, "On one condition. Two, actually."

"What's that?"

"First, that you never again call me Captain Witter. I am not my Pop. And, as much as the man did to redeem himself before finally leaving this earth, I hope to never become anything like my Pop, so any suggestions of a resemblance, no matter how accurate or pertinent they are, are just too horrible to contemplate. And secondly; once you're on board, all past prejudices are to be left ashore where they belong. I don't tolerate such self-indulgent nonsense on my boat. Comprendes, mi amigo?"

"Aye, aye." Dawson saluted, failing to hold back the burgeoning smile. This was going much better than he had expected.

Then again, he was going to be out in the middle of a large body of water with Pacey. Alone. His smile faltered. They'd never had much luck with nautical outings; maybe he should have thought this through a bit more.

Busy mulling over the very real possibility of his death at sea, he'd already hauled the mooring lines in before what Pacey had just said finally registered.

John Witter was dead?

"Um...Pace?"

"What?"

"I'm sorry about your Dad."

An uncomfortable silence descended. Pacey sucked in his cheeks, a sure sign that he was holding something in, but he didn't look up from fiddling with the satellite navigation display. He swallowed heavily before answering. "Um, yeah. Thanks."

Another long pause. "You named your son after him."

That observation earned him a dead-eyed stare, though the hurt simmering under the surface revealed what a painful subject this obviously was. "Is there a point you're trying to make?"

"No." Dawson studied the back of Pacey's head as he hunched back over the little computer screen, suddenly feeling as though he was in the midst of a huge life-changing epiphany.

He'd always thought that Joey was his muse, that her ongoing presence was the sole inspiration for all of his work, but here was another person that he'd known his whole life, someone who was more complex and layered and multifaceted than he could have possibly imagined - a man who somehow managed to be both flawed and perfect, someone so beyond the stereotypical cad that he'd been cast as.

He'd once called this man his best friend. He hadn't even scratched the surface.

"Pace…"

Pacey held up a hand without even bothering to turn around. "Don't," he said. "I don't wanna hear it. No past prejudices, remember?"

Dawson frowned. "I just wanted to say…"

"That you're sorry. I know, okay. I heard you the first time. And the one after that, and so on and so on. It's called beating a dead horse, D. Forget it and move on. Although...you never did quite master that, did you?"

"No. Though, I see you're still quite adept at bringing the flippancy to awkward moments."

"Well, I try."

Dawson decided to go for it. "You hate me, don't you?"

Pacey gazed out over the water, silent.

"I understand if you do. I mean, the way that I've acted…and the…"

"Hate's a relative term," Pacey finally said. "It could very definitely have applied at various points over the course of our association, but if you're asking if I hate you now, right at this moment? Then the answer would be no."

Dawson sighed, relieved. "You don't?"

"I resent that you've been at the source of some of my and Jo's more difficult relationship hurdles, but I don't think it goes any deeper than that at this point."

"That's…that's very reassuring actually."

"Glad I could be of service." Pacey suddenly swung around and faced Dawson head on. "Okay, so here's where I really gotta know something, 'cause it's bugging the hell out of me." He leant forward, elbows on knees. "What happened to you?"

"Huh?"

"Something must have brought about this fantastic new Leery persona. You're all about making apologies now, so what changed? What was the catalyst? Some spoilt Hiltonesque starlet dump you, and you felt the need to come crawling back to Jo again? Pick up where you left off?"

Dawson frowned. "Not to be pedantic, but aren't you breaking your own rules regarding prejudices right now?"

"My boat, my rules." Pacey leant back again, tucking his arms behind his head.

Dawson snorted at the familiar show of cocky posturing.

"And here's an even funner question for ya – are you ever, _ever_ gonna ask about Jen and Amy? Or are you more interested in your former 'soul mate' than your child and her mother?"

The question hit its mark like a sniper's bullet and Dawson dropped heavily onto of the Kitten's padded seats, deflated and defeated. He spread his hands in a hopeless gesture. "Jen won't talk to me."

"I'm shocked," came the deadpan reply.

"I'm not. I mean, not really. I understand how angry she must be, how...hurt and betrayed and resentful, and she's been hanging on to that for a long time. It might take her even longer to let go. What I don't get is how you guys could just drop the news on me like that, with no warning whatsoever. No matter what I've done in the past, I didn't deserve that."

"Ah, well. You'll find the launching pad for that particular bombshell was located a little closer to home."

There was a long pause as Dawson contemplated the implications. "Mom knew?"

"I don't think it was an absolute certainty until the wedding plans were under way, but you, my friend, were set up by the best." Pacey waggled a finger, one brow arched. "Must be where you inherited that mile-wide manipulative streak."

Dawson levelled a withering glance in his direction, but Pacey just grinned.

"Beer?" he asked cheerfully.

**TBC…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"I don't know what to do. I never wanted it to get this far."

Joey glanced over at her woe-be-ridden friend. "I think it's gone past what you want, and into what's best for Amy territory."

"Yeah see, that's the other thing. I don't know what's best for Amy either." Jen sighed heavily and slumped forward to lay her forehead on the tabletop. "I'm a terrible mother."

"If you're trying to get me to feel sorry for you with all that melodramatic rambling, it's not working." Joey nudged Jen with her hip and placed the glass of wine she'd been pouring in front of her. "Here…_in vino veritas_."

Jen gulped the entire glass down and then reached for the bottle.

"No." Joey held it out of the way as she took a seat across from her friend. "There will be no drowning of sorrows. This is a brainstorming session only. We are going to resolve this issue today and that's final."

"Bitch," the blonde groused, pouting. "I knew moving back here was a mistake. Why did I let you talk me into it?"

"As I recall, there wasn't a lot of persuasion needed." Joey sipped delicately at her wine and then wrinkled her nose. She turned the bottle so that she could read the label. "This is going on my do-not-recommend list."

Jen grimaced. "Wish you'd have put Dawson on that list."

Joey arched a brow at her.

"I wasn't in love with him or anything, you know," Jen admitted suddenly, her gaze intent on her glass as she twirled the stem between her fingers. "For a long time I loved the idea of him, of what he represented. Dawson was like the living embodiment of the sweet, easy adolescence I never had, and I wanted that _so_ badly I kind of misconstrued what he actually meant to me." She shrugged ruefully. "There wasn't any real passion there, though. Which, in hindsight, should have been the first thing that tipped me off. I think that's the main reason why we didn't work as a couple. Later, he became what he always should have been - a really good friend, and he was there for me after CJ, and that awful horrible never-to-be-mentioned-again rebound thing with Drue and…it just wasn't some star-crossed coming together, you know? It was more about two people finding comfort in the familiar than anything else."

Joey nodded. "It was the same thing with me. That time in college…" She paused and frowned. "Is it weird that we're comparing notes on this?"

"Oh please!" Jen scoffed. "Do you want to compare notes on Pacey? 'Cause we could do that instead if you'd prefer. I know I would."

"There _is_ no comparison," Joey stated.

"Aw, that's adorable. But really, you've never shared any of the juicy details there. I know he's a great kisser, and he likes to sweet talk…"

"Trust me, those represent a mere fraction of Pace's true talents. Dawson…" Joey smirked evilly. "Dawson didn't _measure up_."

Jen paused for a second, not certain she'd heard correctly, and then she burst out laughing.

* * *

Dawson was aware that he was swaying because the horizon line looked like it was balancing on a teeter-totter. He wasn't entirely sure if it was because of the natural movement of the ocean or the amount of alcohol he'd consumed or some combination of the two, and while the effect was soothing in a strange sort of way, it wasn't doing a whole lot for his equilibrium. He squinted at the vessel's captain, who remained frustratingly sober.

"Issh not fair," he complained.

"Welcome to life, D." Pacey shoved a life-jacket at him. "Put that on. I don't want you drowning if you fall overboard."

"How come you're so mush better'n me?"

The other man froze and stared at him. "What?"

Dawson struggled his way into the bright orange garment. "You're nicer and smarter and better looking and… taller… and ev'rybody loves you…"

Pacey was torn between shock and laughter, the latter eventually winning out. "Man, you're such a lightweight."

"…an' you can hold your liquor better…"

Pacey snorted and helped tug the vest closed, snapping the clips and then straightening the little collar. "It's like dressing an oversized version of Jake," he muttered as he worked. "You're lucky I've had lots of practice."

"Lucky? I'm not lucky!" Dawson was suddenly adamant. "I'm like the anti-antith…the opposite of lucky. Oh! Hey, Pace, it's like that quote from T2. That guy said it…you know, what's his name…?"

"Big Arnie? 'Ah'll be baaack'," Pacey suggested in a passable imitation of Governor Schwarzenegger.

"No, no. The other one, the kid with the floppy hair." Dawson demonstrated that last part by waggling outstretched fingers in front of his forehead. "Furlong. 'There's no fate but what we make for ourselves'." He nodded emphatically. "That is _so_ true. James Cameron, man. That guy is a genius. See, the reason that things've turned out the way they have for me is because I _made_ it happen this way. Now, I just gotta…_un_make it."

"Why does everything always have to come back to the movies with you? I know how much you like to live in your own head, but you've got to pay attention to real life, too. Why can't you just grow up and take responsibility for a change?"

Dawson's jaw dropped and he stared at Pacey like he was the Messiah. "Wow. Talk about hitting the nail on the head."

"Are you volunteering for the position of nail? 'Cause I find myself really wanting to hit you."

"Maybe you should. It might make you feel better. Or make me feel better."

He swayed a little to the left and Pacey watched him stagger, not lifting a finger to help. "Wouldn't really be worth the effort. Shaking some sense into you might have some interesting results, though. Possibly Technicolor."

"You really don't want to be friends again, huh?"

"It's not that simple. We're not five year old kids on the playground anymore, D. You can't keep acting the way that you do and expect people to continue liking you. I mean, I actually can't think of a single, solitary reason anybody in their right mind would contemplate any sort of friendship with you. You're arrogant, you're self-centred…" He cocked his head, eyes narrowing with cool intent. "Not to mention the perverted peeping tom tendencies you've developed lately."

Dawson gulped, feeling queasy. "What?" He tried on an unconvincing smile, but Pacey's steady gaze did not waver and he cracked under its weight. "I didn't go there intending to – to see…what I saw…"

"Alright, I'll buy that. For now. I won't even question your reasons for coming to _my house _late at night to see _my wife_. Whatever your intentions were, it didn't stop you from sticking around to enjoy the show."

"I, um, so Joey…?"

"…Doesn't know anything. And if you value your life, she won't ever find out."

"Why didn't you say something? Take her inside or…? Why'd you let her…do that in front of m-- in front of an audience? How could you humiliate her like that?"

"Is that what you think it was?" Pacey was honestly amazed. "Man, after all this time, you still don't get it. You _look_, but you don't _see_."

"Oh, I saw."

"No. I'm pretty sure those beady little eyeballs of yours are for decoration only, because you didn't see a damned thing. I wanted you to see her, to _really_ see her. The real Jo – my Jo. I wanted you to realize what a gorgeous, passionate flesh-and-blood woman she is, instead of that feeble imitation you have on your stupid show all the time."

"You wanted to knock her off her cinematic pedestal." Dawson was still struggling to comprehend where Pacey was coming from, his own temper beginning to fray. "Tell me, Pace, how is that not a form of humiliation?"

"Dawson! God!" Frustrated, Pacey grabbed onto his shoulders, fingernails digging into the vest's nylon covering and making it screech in protest. The urge to just pick up the other man and toss him overboard was proving difficult to resist. "What does it take to penetrate that thick skull? She should _never_ have been on that pedestal in the first place."

"Hey, even you called her a goddess once…"

The temptation had finally become too much to overcome. Pacey growled, curled his fingers under the straps of Dawson's vest and lifted, hauling the unresisting man up and over the side of the boat. The resulting splash was immensely satisfying, if only for a moment.

Pacey sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jo's gonna kill me."

**TBC…**


End file.
